With a soft sheen, he pulled the enormous zweihander from it's sheathe and stepped forward. A low snarl left him as the sound of clunking armour drew near. Thirty, was what Limadan concluded.
As soon as he saw thr first soldiers, he ran forward with a loud, feral roar. Met by cries of both fear and determination. He slammed into their ranks like a wild beast. Not even bothering to defend against their blows. Knowing that he could take any punishment given by these weaklings.
After a minute of fighting, Limadan stood in the middle of the massacre. Covered in blood. Both his own and the soldier's.